I'll let you look inside me, through the stains and through the cracks,
And in the darkness of this moment,
You see the good and bad.
But try not to judge me, 'cause we've walked down different paths,
But it brought us here together, so I won't take that back.
Thompson Square - Glass
Chapter 6: Sour Grapes
Lexi
I opened my eyes a crack at the beeping noise. It sounded like my alarm clock, but that couldn't be right. It was still spring break. Sitting up in bed, I tossed the covers back and moved to the window that overlooked the driveway and Brady's work area. A large cement truck was backing down our driveway as he waved his arms and instructed it where to go. He looked up at the last second, catching my gaze.
He winked.
I glared.
How did he always seem to know that I was looking at him? I huffed internally. It was as if we were linked by some sort of weird telepathy. Or he just knew how to annoy me.
Shaking those thoughts away, I let the curtain fall back into place with a grunt. I quickly dressed in jeans and an old ratty sweatshirt, skipping a hair brush and deodorant again just to show how little I cared. Once I was down in the kitchen, I put on the coffee and waited. I knew he would come barging in soon, just like every other day of break, blatantly hinting for handouts. I wondered who would feed him once I went back to school.
Like clockwork, the door to the driveway swung open and Brady poked his head in. He made a point to keep his cement covered rubber boots on the top stair as he craned his neck to look inside.
"Coffee would be nice," he said with a high and mighty air.
I made a disgusted noise in my throat. "Get it yourself."
"I would, but I'm covered in cement. But you already know that," he laughed, giving me a wink.
My cheeks blushed deep crimson as I realized what he was referring to. I had been caught watching him from my window several times, which was humiliating enough. To have him bring it up was outright cringeworthy.
I got up with a grumble and poured a bit of the steaming hot liquid into a plastic cup and shoved it at him. He gave me an incredulous look and held up his hands. "Oh, I take it with cream and two sugars sweetheart."
I gritted my teeth as I added his requests and practically shoved it back at him.
"Woo…did you not sleep well? Someone is grumpy," he quipped. I rolled my eyes and tried not to give him too much of a reaction. He was just like the teenage boys from high school. They would playfully insult you just to get a reaction. Well, he certainly wasn't getting one from me.
"Yeah, well...I guess I didn't," I muttered, slamming the door. I heard him snort as I trudged back upstairs with my steaming cup. In all honestly, I had a tough night. My mom had called and put my eight year old brother, Dylan, on the phone to give me a tearful plea to come home. Just thinking of the phone call that, I'm certain, had been staged by my mother made me sick to my stomach. It wasn't right to use my brothers against me; I was still a teenager, and I knew that parents doing things like that wasn't fair.
Needless to say, it had been somewhat of a sleepless night.
I couldn't go back. My dad and Patrick needed me, and besides I had already settled into Forks and made some really good friends. In truth, my new friends were a whole lot better than the air-headed bunch back home. My brothers couldn't leave their school and make all new friends now – I had been lucky to be welcomed by Claire and Regan. No, things had to stay the way they were.
I moped around my room most of the morning, torturing myself further by flipping through the family photo albums with sorrow. I had managed to slip a few from the shelves of my former home knowing they would probably be destroyed anyway. My mother had accepted the fact that my dad was gay, but she certainly hadn't accepted that her husband had left her for someone else. Even though I felt sorry for her, I simply couldn't stay in California. My dad needed the support to start his new life.
I gazed over the pictures, trying to remember my life back when they were taken. I had been a happy child and had never wanted for anything; we lived a comfortable, happy life. At least my first sixteen years or so had been happy. I had to remind myself that very few kids get even that much. For that, I will always remember the sacrifices my father had made to give me that happy childhood.
With a sigh, I turned to a picture of our last family portrait session. Once a year we donned matching outfits and went to the beach or the park for a professional photographer to take some shots of the entire family. The picture of my mom and dad together on the beach looked so deceiving. You would never know. He had played straight so convincingly. Now I can see the emptiness in his eyes, the stiffness to his smile. Back then...he was more than convincing.
The doorbell chiming downstairs ripped me from my reverie. My dad and Patrick were gone again today, this time pricing special water resistant shingles or something for our new garage. Trudging to the door, I opened it to find a teenage boy in a red button down shirt standing there with a long box.
"Yes?"
"Delivery. Sign here," he mumbled, shoving the box at me. I frowned, but did as I was told.
"Who sent these?"
"Don't know. Have a nice day."
"Thanks," I muttered, slamming the door shut. The box was heavy in my arms. That was odd. It was addressed to me.
Ripping it open, I was immediately met with the scent of fresh flowers. Carefully removing the packaging, I realized someone had sent me a healthy sized bouquet of what looked like mini irises. The violet color was dazzling and the smell was heavenly. I quickly put them in the crystal vase that came with them and arranged them on the kitchen counter. I gazed at them dreamily for a few minutes, just admiring the delicate petals. No one had ever gotten me flowers before; well, minus my parents. Who on earth sent them?
My frown was quickly replaced by a smile as I leaned in and took a whiff. As if on cue, the kitchen door swung open and made me jump. Brady peeled off his boots before tromping into the kitchen in his bare feet.
"Care if I make a sub?"
I shook my head and sat back on the counter to gaze at my pretty flowers and ignore stupid Brady.
"Nice flowers. Who sent them?" he asked quizzically, loading up his arms with food from the fridge. I simply shrugged and shook my head, trying to pretend I didn't feel my cheeks heating up.
"I don't know," I admitted.
He snorted. "Right. You don't know? How can you not know who sent you flowers?"
"No card," I explained, leaning in and taking another long whiff. "They're pretty though."
Brady made a snorting sound through his nose. "Hasn't this joker ever heard of roses?"
"First of all, whoever sent them isn't a 'joker'. Secondly...roses are overdone. I like these better."
He snorted to himself and let the door to the fridge slam shut. "Whatever you say. This guy looks cheap. Someone from home sent them?"
I sighed. "Are you that thick? I said I didn't know."
"Touchy!" He snapped, holding up his hands. "Just wanted to know if there was like...a guy or something that could have sent them to you from home. Someone who like, misses you or whatever."
I frowned at his sentiment, trying not to read too much into it. Sure, Brady was still like a thorn in my side; however, he was still a very hot thorn in my side. I brushed my hair out of my eyes and sat at the counter, still gazing at my flowers with a perplexed expression.
"Nosy much?" I shot back.
Of course there was no one from home. Who was I kidding? The guys at home barely paid me any attention; much less miss me enough to send flowers three months after I'd moved away. So who were they from? My eyes shifted to Brady, who was unabashedly watching me out of the corner of his eye as he pretended to hunt for the lunchmeat in the fridge. Blushing, I looked away.
"So are we paying you in food, are you hoping to just break even?" I shot at him as he chewed.
His eyebrows shot clear up his forehead. "Seems like you should be happier, what with getting flowers and all!"
I balked. "I don't know who sent me flowers…could be…an axe murderer who's stalking me."
Brady snorted. "Trust me, I don't think that's the case. And if it is, well…then I'd say that's a pretty considerate axe murderer..stalker…thing you got going on."
I stared at him for a moment, watching him carefully. He avoided my eyes and the tips of his ears began to turn a little pink. What was going on? I looked back at the flowers, then him.
"Need something?"
"No, erm...I'll be upstairs," I quickly mumbled before darting up the back staircase.
x-x-x-x-x-x-xx-
"He's awful, Claire. Pompous, hoity, jerky, and awful. Just...ulgh," I answered, throwing up my hands the next day. Claire had invited me over to hang out with her and work on our group project, but so far, all we had done was sit around reading Cosmo and gossiping.
"So...how much longer will he be working at your house?" she asked flatly.
"Dad said it would take him most of the summer since he's working alone. They're even thinking of adding like a patio and maybe a deck or something. I don't know. All I know is that he's just there every day and all..." I trailed off, grumbling to myself.
She looked up over her magazine and snorted. "You seem to talk about him an awful lot for hating him so much."
My head jerked up to stare at her. "What?"
"I said," she giggled, sitting into an upright position, "that you talk about him an awful lot for supposedly hating him so much."
"Well...I do. Hate him, that is," I huffed, flipping the page of my magazine cover.
"Well, I'd stay steer clear. If he asks you for something, ignore it. He's nothing but trouble, Lex, trust me. I've known the guy since I was baby. I'm sure if Quil wasn't around, he'd be all trying to hit on me too. Guys like that have it like...programmed into them or something."
"Right," I agreed, chewing my lip as I listened to Claire. In all honesty, I had talked to him several times over the course of a few days. He wasn't that bad.
That was the part that angered me.
He wasn't bad at all.
That was the part that terrified me.
He had been on rain release from his full time job with my dad for the past week. I guess if it rained too much and they were on a certain aspect of the building, they couldn't work. Today he had gone back to work full time, and if I was really honest with myself, that was the reason I had accepted Claire's invitation to hang out.
I wouldn't have missed a second of Brady being at my house. As much as I hated to admit it...I was drawn to him.
It wasn't like I had fallen head over heels.
No.
I fought it.
Feebly.
But I had fought it. After some questioning glances from my dad and Patrick, the irises had been moved up to my room to endure a bit less scrutiny. I knew they wanted to give me my privacy and not ask, because I had made it clear that I didn't want to talk about it. However, they were gossipy old farts and I knew they were biting their tongues. So, the flowers sat on my dresser and mocked me.
"I talk about people who irk me too. Well, Regan says I whine and bitch about them."
"He just...rubs me the wrong way," I explained, ignoring her sentiment.
Claire snorted and raised a dark eyebrow at me. "As opposed to the right way?"
I felt myself blush before I could think to control it. "No. Um..."
She laughed. "It's okay. He's a hot piece of man meat, so I can't blame ya," she added with a wink.
I shrugged and brushed a piece of hair out of my eyes. "Right. I just wouldn't want Regan to...get the wrong idea."
"Oh Lex...that girl is so wrapped up in Sethy-kins, I hardly doubt she will notice even if you were to elope with him to Vegas right now."
"I'm...I wouldn't—"
"Well, I'd hope not," she giggled, cutting me off. "I'm just messing with ya, Lex. But Regan wouldn't...care, I mean...if you—"
"No! Oh my god, no. It's not like that. So I have some...girly crush on him. Whatever. He's nice to look at but he's bad news. I wouldn't dream of it."
"Oh...well...okay," she agreed, nodding. We flipped through our magazines a few more times before she jumped up.
"Regan will be working by now. Why don't we go harass her at the Piggly Wiggly?"
I giggled at the name of the grocery store and let Claire drag me to her car. A short time later we arrived at Regan's place of work only to find her elbows deep in floury dough.
"She's like a deranged Betty Crocker that one," Claire announced, making Regan look up from her work with a scowl as several nearby shoppers looked up at us. A few middle-aged women frowned and stepped a little further away from the pastry counter as Claire cackled to herself.
"What do you want?" she grumbled, wiping off her hands. "Stop coming to my work and embarrassing me, Claire, jeez. What will it take to get you out of here without publicly humiliating me or getting me fired?"
Claire gave Regan her best grin. "Cupcake."
Regan hissed something under her breath and slipped us both a vanilla cupcake with rainbow sprinkles.
"Silence ain't cheap," Claire laughed. "So how's work?"
Regan rolled her eyes. "Fine. Just would rather be, oh you know...anywhere but here."
"I getcha. You still want to come over after?"
"Yeah, just let me tell Seth, he was my ride. I'm off in twenty. Can you hang around till then?"
We nodded and headed to the town square to kill twenty minutes. Regan said she would meet us there when she was finished, so we took our time and strolled around.
As we passed a quaint looking store, I stopped walking and looked around us. "You know, Forks isn't really that bad. It's got a homey feel to it."
Claire looked at me like I was crazy as she swiped a bit of frosting off the top of her cupcake. "You're crazy. At least you have a place like California to go to on vacations. Are you going home at all this summer?"
"Yeah, prolly. I should go see my mom. I haven't seen her since Christmas, and...she was a little too drugged to remember." I said as we started walking again. "The valium fairy visited several times a day, if you know what I mean."
She shrugged. "No offense, but if my husband told me he was gay, I'd need a little blue pill too. Not the gay part, just….that he was leaving me. I can't imagine how bad that has to hurt. Especially since there wasn't much she could do to get him back, ya know? "
I laughed and nodded good-naturedly. "I guess you're right. People here have been cool about that."
"About what?"
"Exactly. You barely blinked when I told you I had two dads. Not the reaction I was expecting."
She shrugged. "Well….I'm good with weird, I guess."
We talked and enjoyed the spring air while we waited for Regan to get off work, making quick work of our cupcakes from Piggly Wiggly. We were strolling around the sidewalk admiring the daffodils that lined it when Claire nudged me.
"You have a shadow," she hissed.
Surprise washed over me. "Huh?"
Turning around, I saw who was walking behind us. It was Brady. That's strange, I thought. Isn't he supposed to be at work? He was still about a fifty yards back, but it was definitely him. I felt my stomach get nervous butterflies as he approached us quickly and with purpose. His eyes were dark and stormy, and I felt myself inhale. I had never seen him look so...serious.
"Stalk much?" Claire snapped, turning around. I grabbed her elbow and hissed for her to keep walking, but it didn't matter. Brady caught up to us in a matter of seconds.
"What are you guys doing out? It's...getting late," he said, shifting from one foot to the other. I noticed his ripped jeans, white shirt, and dirty work boots and figured he must be working nearby.
"Um, walking?"
"And I wasn't stalking," he added quietly, "we're working across the street and I saw you guys...just...Claire, it's almost dark out. You girls shouldn't be walking around like this."
"Like what?" Claire challenged.
I cringed slightly as Claire stepped closer to him in a challenging manner. She was so ballsy sometimes that I was envious of how little she cared of what people thought of her. Claire just didn't care. My eyes moved to Brady, was currently staring her down with his stormy gaze. I was confused. He was talking like...we were in danger. But that didn't make any sense. It was barely dusk on a Thursday afternoon, and we were in Forks. It was a sleepy little town. Bad things didn't happen in places like this, right?
"Just talk to Quil later, alright?" he snapped sharply. I gaped at him, astounded he would talk to Claire like that. People didn't usually just talk to her like that. She would verbally rip them a new asshole.
I watched as Claire and Brady had about a twenty second stare down before she finally nodded. "Okay, fine. But go back to work, you're creeping us out."
"I'm not either...am I?" He asked suddenly, his shoulders dropping. He went from a ferocious looking hulk to a cowering puppy. I was still tongue tied.
"Yes, you're a loser, now go. Leave us alone, we're waiting for Regan to get off work." Claire replied rudely.
"Maybe I should stay with you guys. Lexi doesn't mind, do you?" he asked, looking at me.
Something about the way he was acting all cocky rubbed me the wrong way. I frowned at him and felt an air of defiance rise up in my chest. I needed to squelch this attraction to him, and do it now before I fell.
Or fell harder.
"No, we're fine. Like she said...stop being a creep," I chimed in, Claire's laughter barely registering with me. The look on Brady's face suddenly had all my attention. Now he really did look like a cowering puppy. As he should though – I was publicly shooting him down and embarrassing him.
"I could walk you guys back to the car," he offered hopefully.
I looked at him squarely in the eye. "Brady, we don't need a babysitter. Claire said we're fine. Besides...it's not even dark out. Last time I checked, I'm old enough not to need a babysitter."
Suddenly something flared in his eyes; a rage I hadn't seen before. "Well, pardon me for caring. Or trying. Or whatever. Just...fuck this," he spat, turning around and stalking away. The breath left my chest as I watched him hurry off. Something twisted inside of me as if my body was protesting his hasty exit. I opened my mouth to say something but I couldn't find the words.
"Good riddance," Claire snapped. Her eyes shifted to me and she shook her head in disbelief. "Can you believe him? We're just in Forks and..." she trailed off, still shaking her head.
"Is he...always like that?" I asked.
"A hot headed asshole?"
"Well, I guess..."
"Yes. Brady's been a hothead ever since I was little," she said after a short pause.
I raised my eyebrows. "You've known him since you were little? How mean could he have been back then?"
Claire stopped, her dark eyes going a little wide as if she had just spilled someone's darkest secrets.
"Oh...erm...he's a few years older than me I think, why?"
"How old is he?" I asked, adding quickly, "Just out of curiosity."
"He's...like early twenties," Claire said after a moment. "I'm not sure to be honest. Older than us but um...not old."
"Oh."
"Well, he's always had a temper. Quil says he's always picking fights and being an overall nuisance with that hot attitude of his. He isn't giving your dad a hard time, is he?" she asked curiously.
"No," I admitted. "He's been off work all week because of the rain I think, so he's been at my house. It's just the two of us during the day, and..." I trailed off, thinking of how he acted the few times he had been in my kitchen, mooching lunch. He was charming – almost sweet. Cocky, but overall decent. If I didn't know anything about his past, I would actually think he was something perfectly reasonable to crush on. However, I knew things about him that were less than appealing.
"...he's different," I finally said, giving her a shrug. Claire gave me a look that said she clearly didn't buy it, but she didn't say anything else.
x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x
Before I knew it, spring break was over and we were back in school. A steady downpour of rain had kept Brady from working at my house all week. Each day, I would wake up for school and look out my window, pitifully hoping that he would be working below my window. I trudged to school on Friday and spent the day pissed at myself for caring. I felt like an awful friend to Regan for even thinking about Brady other than thinking of him as a total rat.
But I didn't think of him that way.
At all.
Maybe that's what startled and repulsed me so much.
Regan hadn't gone into too much detail about her short tryst with Brady shortly after arriving in Forks, but I had heard enough to get the jist. He used her like a cheap piece of meat and tossed her aside. He was a womanizer. A boozing, temper-fueled womanizer.
But did I even know him enough to label him that way? I wasn't sure. I decided to wait and find out. Little did I know, I wouldn't have to wait very long. I pulled up to my house that afternoon after school, and there he was. I climbed out of my car and gulped as he turned around. He was using some sort of gun to nail some of the studs in place. Our carriage house was coming along slowly, much to my delight. Or horror. Like I said, I wasn't sure.
"Hey," he called brightly, flashing his white teeth at me. I heaved my book bag over my shoulder and nodded.
"Hey."
"It's Friday. Shouldn't you look...peppier?"
I snorted. "You know how I should look now?"
It came out sharper than I had intended, but I didn't regret it. I needed to nip this little crush in the bud while I still could. Being nice to him and having him be nice and charming right back to me wasn't going to get us anywhere.
I couldn't afford to let this go on.
I was a loyal person. That was all there is to it. I dug my toe in the mud and fought the urge to remain where I was. What was it about him that drew me in? As if on cue, he gave me the kicked puppy look again and I felt my heart twist in my chest.
"I guess not, no," he muttered, his tan face going back to looking stern. He seemed to be fighting something on his side as well. It was like he didn't want me to see him laughing or sad or...feeling anything. Was he afraid to feel? Something told me he was. It seemed as though I either saw him on one end of the spectrum or the other – feelings versus no feelings.
But which was real? I wasn't sure anymore.
"If you um...want a snack or anything, I'll be in the kitchen doing homework," I offered finally, my resolve wavering.
He nodded, dropping his drill on the makeshift table as if it was on fire. "Alright, I could eat."
I raised my eyebrows in surprise, but couldn't think of much else as I let him into the side door. He stood at the counter as I rummaged through the pantry and fridge, seeking out something to eat. "String cheese, ok?"
"The best," he confirmed, walking over to me. I felt my heart stop as he neared, his arm brushing against mine as he ripped off three pieces of cheese. "Do you bite it or peel it?"
I snorted. "I peel it. I'm not an animal."
He burst into laughter, stepping away. "Right. You're not an animal. So uhm..how's high school treating ya?"
I thought for a moment before rolling my eyes at him. "Fine. It's high school. Same no matter what state you're in."
He thought a moment, ripping a chunk off his string cheese. I tried not to drool as his defined jaw moved, chewing thoughtfully. "You go to school with Zeke, right?"
"Right."
"Yeah...been meaning to chat with that little punk."
"Whys that?"
He raised his eyebrows before giving me a quick wink. "Oh you know...threaten him to look after certain people while he's there."
I frowned. First the square in Forks, now he wanted someone to look after me while I was in school? This was getting weird...and fast. "Excuse me? What's it with you wanting to keep tabs on me all the sudden?"
He was quiet then, chewing as he debated what to say back to me. "I'm just kidding. I like to give the kid a hard time."
"Well, ease up on him. Zeke is great. I'm working with him on a group project, and he's been really good. Besides...it's Forks. I don't need looking after," I added indignantly.
"Right," he quipped sarcastically.
"How do you know him, anyway? He's a high school kid."
"How old do you think I am?" He laughed. "I'm not that old and decrepit that I can't know a few high schoolers."
"Just weird, I duno."
"Listen, he's from the rez, I'm from the rez—"
"No he's not. He moved here," I retorted.
"Okay fine, well...he's got Quileute blood in him, so I consider him to be from the rez. We all look out for each other, ya know?"
"Right," I said slowly, walking back to the fridge. I pulled out the bag of grapes and popped one in my mouth as he watched. He seemed captivated watching me chew...and strangely, I liked it. However, my self-conscious side won out and I slowed, frowning at him. His eyes met mine and he jumped slightly, as if he just realized I had been watching him watch me chew the grape.
This is going from weird to weirder, I thought.
"What?" I asked rudely, giving him another glare.
"I should prolly head back out. Make it look like I'm actually working when your dads get home," he finally sighed, giving me a playful grin. I rolled my eyes and shook my head at him.
"Why do you always do that?"
"Do what?" I asked, my eyes following him to the door.
"Roll your eyes at me when I talk."
"You're just so...so…"
"So what?"
I rolled my eyes again, making him snort as he pulled on his boots. "You must really like me. I make you speechless," he replied with a cocky swagger. Before I could even process his words, he was out the door faster than a bolt of lightning.
I screeched out loud in a mixture of frustration and shock before taking off after him, grapes in tow. "I do not like you!" I called out haughtily as I hurried down the outside steps. He tossed me another cocky glance over his shoulder as he walked.
"Fine, fine. You hate me. You know, for hating me, you follow me around an awful lot."
"No, actually you follow me around," I shot back. "What was with that, anyway?"
He paused a moment, picking up a drill. "In the square? Nothing."
I frowned, replaying the concerned look on his face from that day in my mind. He had looked jumpy and agitated, like something was really really wrong. "It didn't seem like nothing. You looked really worried, that's all. Is something wrong with Forks? Is there like...a serial killer on the loose I don't know about?"
"Something like that, yeah."
"You're bluffing," I shot, crossing my arms. I glared at his back as he drilled, my frustration with him coming to a head. He was clearly lying to me about something – I just wasn't sure what.
"Am I now," he muttered, turning around. I uncrossed my arms and gave him another glare. He returned my glare and tried not to smile as I fought the same urge.
"Care to share those?" he asked, motioning to the grapes.
I huffed and untwisted the bag in my hand, pelting one of the green grapes at him as fast as I could. He lunged out, catching it in his mouth. My jaw dropped as he chewed.
"How on earth did you...how did you catch that?"
"It's a gift," he smirked, putting the drill down. He clapped his tanned hands together, stepping away from the construction site in our side yard and onto the grass. "Come on, I'll show you. Toss me another one."
I sighed and followed him into the yard, my bare feet sinking into the chilly, dewy grass. Brady nodded at me from twenty feet away.
"You're joking. Right? You're joking."
"Nah, nah, come on girl. I'll catch whatever you throw at me," he replied with a bright smile.
I narrowed my eyes before chucking another grape at him, which he effortlessly caught in his mouth. "What did we say about calling me 'girl'? My name is Lexi. Use it."
"Gladly," he chuckled, clapping again. I tossed another one, this time impossibly high and out of his reach. He lunged again, catching it before somersaulting on the ground and rolling into a standing position.
"Impressive, right?"
I tried not to roll my eyes and give him the satisfaction. "Fine, you can catch grapes."
"Do another one," he pleaded, nodding. "High."
I tossed another one high up in the air, my jaw dropping as he did a perfect backflip before catching the grape.
"You're kidding me with this right now, right?" I laughed.
He shook his head and joined me in laughter. "No, just something I learned. Do another one."
Before I realized what happened, Brady had me laughing and we were out of grapes. As it turned out, he could do an amazing array of flips and leaps before catching the fruit in his mouth, and he barely missed.
"Want me to do fifty push-ups?" he offered.
"What?"
"I missed that one. But I beg interference for the crappy throw," he teased.
I imagined him in his cut up t-shirt doing push-ups on my front lawn and tried not to blush. "Um, no," I giggled, turning back towards the house.
"Where are ya going?" he asked.
Turning my head to look at him, I said, "We're done. No more grapes."
"No, wait," he called, jogging after me. I paused on the bottom step of the side porch, tucking my hair behind my ears as I fidgeted. Something about him looking at me made me want to fidget.
"What?" I asked, feeling uncomfortable.
"You don't have to go yet," he said, turning up his puppy-dog eyes, "we were just starting to have some fun."
"Yeah, I do. I need to um...do some homework," I said.
"On a Saturday morning?" he asked, raising his eyebrow.
He was calling my bluff and I knew it. My shoulders slumped in defeat as he realized what I was doing. I was avoiding him. I was putting the brakes on our fun time together.
I had enjoyed being with him.
But I shouldn't have.
"Yeah, well...I should go inside. Things to do..." I trailed off, looking down.
"Right. I get it," He snapped bitterly, stalking back over to his work station. I could see his angry face as he picked up his drill and fiddled with it. A light mist had begun to fall around us, and suddenly, I felt very out of place. Minutes passed by, and I could tell he was still consumed by his anger, judging from his quick, jerky movements as he worked, but I didn't know what to say.
"Don't you have work to do, supposedly?" he snapped, glancing over his shoulder.
I reeled silently, amazed at his moods. He could go from hot to cold in two seconds! It was obvious he was like an emotional yo-yo.
"Yeah, I guess," I said softly, hugging my sides. How could he make me feel so amazing one second...and so awful the next? I gripped the white railing of the steps where I stood, suddenly unable to move. Why did he affect me so? I couldn't decide why I couldn't move...something in my chest twisted and ached at every single thought of leaving him.
"So...so that's it then?" he called, making me turn around.
"What?" I asked, beginning to feel irritated.
"That's it," he snapped, gripping the tool in his hand. "So you're just going to keep this distance, this...thing between us. Just because I screwed up and fucked your friend one drunken night? That's it for me, then?"
I balked at his brash words. Not many people said things the way he did, and I wasn't used to someone being so harsh with me.
"That's not, I mean...Brady, I can't just..." I fumbled over my words, trying to decide what to say. I wanted to be a good friend and be loyal to Regan, of course. What girl did that? Flirted with the guy who had hurt her friend?
A bad one.
I had friend back home – not a lot of close ones, but….I knew that much about girl code. You didn't date the guy that fucked your friend and then fucked her over. I didn't know what to say.
"What do you want from me?" I heard myself ask.
"The lack of words pretty much says it," he shot back.
"Why do you care?" I snapped. "What does it matter? You're out here in my yard, throwing a fit about why I should or shouldn't like you. What does it matter?" I repeated.
"I just...it bothers me, okay? That you hate me. I mean, you obviously hate me for what I did to her, right?"
I thought a moment, choosing my words. "I don't hate you, but I certainly don't like you anymore for what you did to her."
"That was so long ago."
"But...Brady, it says something about you, alright?"
My words did something to him. He paused, nodding almost to himself. "I'll apologize to her if it would make things right."
"It would be a start."
I had clearly called his bluff as he cringed, clenching his jaw. I obviously wasn't saying what he wanted me to say here.
"Fine. Consider it done. I'll apologize to Regan. Then…then will we be good?"
I crossed my arms and stared at him skeptically from the bottom step. My heart clenched in my chest as I watched him watch me, his chocolate gaze piercing.
"Maybe."
My words clearly weren't what he wanted to hear. I watched as he tossed his head and seemed to fume where he stood, his cheeks turning pink and his hands clenching the drill. Brady stared at me for a moment, his dark-eyed gaze making me feel on edge. I hated that he was so moody and unpredictable – I never knew what he was going to say next, and that scared me.
And exhilarated me.
Exhibit 'A' of this was what came out of his mouth next.
"Go out with me."
Time stopped in the misty yard for a second.
I exhaled sharply, the idea bouncing around inside my head. I fought to think clearly, but coherent thoughts didn't seem to want to come to me. He raised his eyebrows expectantly, waiting for my answer. Something in my head wanted me to say yes.
"Shit," he muttered, shaking his head at himself. I watched as he grimaced and looked away, kicking himself for his words.
"No," I answered. I cringed at how shaky and unsure I sounded.
"Give me a one good reason?" he pleaded.
I stood on the top step, biting my lip. He walked over to me, his eyes returning to mine. With his hand outstretched, he touched my own hand with his. "Please. Just one good reason and I'll leave you alone."
"There are plenty of reasons, Brady."
"Give me one," he repeated. "A good one, not a cop out. Not some wimpy excuse. I want a good reason why you and I shouldn't at least go on one date."
"You're not good for me," I blurted out, my eyes wide. My hands shook as they twisted the empty plastic bag. "I just...I can't be around you. You're not...good."
The silence loomed between us as I stood on the top step, out of words. I didn't know where to go from there. I knew I couldn't have him, but I didn't want to give him up
I was being selfish and I knew it.
"So that's it, then? You're just going to believe everything your stupid friends told you about me?"
"I can make a decision on my own," I argued back. "I don't think that's any of your business what I do or don't believe. I just know the facts, Brady. And I know that I shouldn't..."
I stopped before I said 'like you'. Because putting it out in the open would make it true somehow.
But it was true.
My stomach twisted as I watched him stand in the side yard, eyes wild and face hot.
I had never felt so torn in my life. I wanted liking this guy to be okay – but I couldn't ignore what people had told me. He was bad news, plain and simple.
"Just...just go out with me, once. Once. One date, that's all I'm asking."
His voice was hoarse and pleading, and it made my chest ache.
"What would Regan think of that?"
He growled and tossed the drill to the ground, the metal clanging in protest. He stalked over to his makeshift work table and slammed his palm down on the wood with a resounding smack.
"I think we both know that you're not good for me," I whispered to myself, turning and heading inside. I quickly opened the kitchen door and ducked inside, instantly relieved to be away from him...and from those eyes. His deep, almost black brown eyes seemed to cut right through me – it was unnerving. I felt like he could probably see right through me. Leaning back against the door, I fought the urge to open it again and apologize. Call me crazy, but I had actually had fun with him in the backyard, talking casually and tossing him grapes. He was nice when he wanted to be.
And charming.
And funny.
And witty.
And...
I inhaled sharply, brushing away the solitary tear that had managed to fall out of the corner of my eye.
I shouldn't be crying over him.
Crying over him meant that...
Well, it meant things I didn't want to admit.
Sniffling once, I wiped my eyes again and retreated upstairs to my bed. It was barely noon, not that you could tell from the weather. It was clouded and misty, a light rain having just fallen. I barely noticed the rain now – even when it wasn't raining here it seemed like a light mist was always falling. I glanced out the window in my room that overlooked the front lawn, noting how my surroundings had a dewy appearance. With a grunt, I flopped back on my bed and sighed. I stayed there until I heard the front door open. I heard Patrick whistling jovially as he moved around downstairs, his voice echoing up the stairs as he called to me.
"Lexi? You home?"
I slunk down the steps to the kitchen where he was, peeking out the window. Brady was still here although he was packing up his truck.
"Your dad and I are making homemade pizzas tonight. Got all the fixings...want to join us?"
"Um...I'm not really hungry," I answered, only halfway listening to him. Brady hopped in his truck, slamming the door. I tried my best to look nonchalant and casual as I spied on him. I watched as he sat in the cab for a moment, not moving. After a few more seconds, he let the truck roar to life and sped out of the driveway. Patrick looked up, watching as his truck turned onto the main road.
"Brady seems to be doing good work. Have you talked to him much? He seems...nice."
I slid into a seat at the counter and gave Patrick a skeptical look. "Really?"
He shrugged. "Well, he's nice to me. Polite, I duno."
"Yeah, I've talked to him a few times. He's um...nice."
I was battling with myself whether or not to confide in my dad's partner. Patrick was kind and understanding, and I usually found he was a good ear to talk to when I needed it. He wasn't my parent, so I felt like he didn't judge me as much as my mom or dad would have – or if he did, he would never say anything. No, he was simply a good listener and usually offered solid advice. I felt like I was going crazy not talking about this with anyone else, so I took a chance and decided to say something.
Patrick gave me another look with his kind eyes. "Is something wrong? You got all...glum, all of the sudden."
I pulled the ends of my sweatshirt over my hands and rested my chin on them. "No, nothing's wrong. Brady's nice enough, he's just…well, can I tell you something?"
Patrick nodded as he took everything out of the fridge to make pizzas. His soft gaze watched me as he began preparing the food. Patrick was a good listener, I reminded myself. Maybe he could offer me some advice that would at least keep me sane.
"I um...I know Brady from somewhere else, actually."
Patrick looked at me sideways as he adjusted the setting on the dough mixer. "I had a feeling. Go on."
"Well...he's got this...reputation."
That earned me another look.
"He um...slept with one of my friends...in her moment of weakness. It was a long time ago though."
"Okay."
"Well...he kinda did her wrong. He wasn't that nice about it. She made a mistake and wanted nothing to do with him, but I guess when he saw her and stuff, he would like...say bad things. He was kind of mean."
"That's never good," he mused sympathetically, turning the mixer on. "But you said that was a while ago."
"Right, well...now he's...kinda flirty with me."
Patrick thought a moment. "How does that make you feel?"
I shrugged. "Confused? I guess...I feel like I should...want to be meaner to him. I want to hate him for what he did to Regan, but...I guess I'm mad at myself because I don't."
"How do you feel about him?"
I looked away, unable to look Patrick in the eye. "I like him. I mean...not...oh...He's nice to me, and makes me laugh and stuff, but at the same time I can never forget what people told me about him. He's a temperamental womanizer according to everyone else."
Patrick thought a moment, his soft brown eyes looking down at the counter-top in front of us. "Well...true. But...a couple things."
"Right."
"First, you said that was a while ago. People do learn from their mistakes and change."
"I guess."
"And...it's not that I don't believe what he did with your friend, I mean, that sounds feasible, but you have to keep in mind that not everything said about someone is true. Especially when what is said is from someone else."
I nodded, listening closely as he continued.
"I mean...I'm sure people said some rather exaggerated things about me and your father before we left town. Not to be mean, necessarily, but...for the sake of the story, you know?"
"Right, I guess that could be a possibility." I said.
"I'm sure not everything said is true. But keep in mind that it might not be untrue. You've always been a good judge of character, sweets, why would that stop now?"
I thought for a bit. "I guess I just don't understand why I'm so drawn to him."
"I get it. Believe me, I get that," he added wryly, checking on his dough. "But you always have to trust your gut. If something feels wrong, then it probably is. But how do you feel when he's talking to you? Or...flirting?" he asked with a wince. I could tell this wasn't his choice of conversation topic, but he was doing his best to help me out here.
A smile appeared on my face before I could stop it. "Good, actually. He's very fun to be around, but he's so moody! Hot and cold I guess. That's part of what scares me about him. He exhilarates me and…I don't know why I like him Patrick, but I really do. It just frightens me."
"It should. Emotionally unstable people can be toxic for you. But...maybe he could change."
I leaned back in my chair, giving him a skeptical look. "But people rarely change, Patrick. You've always told me that. When people tell you how they are with their words and actions, you've always told me to believe them. He clearly has. I need to accept that that's the person he is. I can't expect him to change how he is."
He shrugged. "Maybe Brady has never been given a good enough reason to change. Maybe that reason could be you."
x-x-x-x-x-
Thank you to my wonderful beta, NinkyBaby for this chapter!
So…what do you all think of Lexi and Brady so far? I think ever girl has gone after a bad boy at least once in her life…
Many of you have expressed in reviews that this story is difficult to read because you already know what happens to these two in LTP. While I won't deny that (remember, I never planned on writing this story) please keep in mind that LTP is told through Regan and Seth's eyes. A LOT happens that they don't see, talk about, or think about. I have a lot in store for these two, and I will keep the surprises coming.
Also, expect a LTP update within the next week. I am hard at work on that chapter – one of the last ones! Just trying to wrap everything up.
Come play on twitter! (At)TwilightCakes
Many of you also ask if I'm writing Claire/Quil and Embry/Sydney's stories – the answer is yes. I've said it like 10 times (LOL) so repeat: I WILL BE WRITING THEM : )